Sleep is for the Weak
by Wicked42
Summary: Takes place three days after "301." Audrey refuses to sleep. It's been going on a few days, and Nathan's getting exasperated. (Audrey x Nathan)


A/N: Spoilers for "301," so don't read if you haven't seen past that. This takes place about three days after Audrey is abducted, but before the events of "Stay."

Just my take on the psychological impact of what Audrey went through. :)

(I also have no idea what's actually supposed to be capitalized in titles, so sorry if this one's wrong. I'm sure it is. I'm just too tired to look up the right way. :P )

* * *

**Sleep is for the Weak**

When she looks up, he's staring at her.

Again.

Audrey purses her lips and turns back to her paperwork. The words are starting to swim in front of her. She's so sick of reports, penning one and doctoring the other. Two copies per incident. And Haven has a _lot_ of incidences.

Outside the office, the station is bustling. She's heard of three traffic accidents. One burglary. Two power lines down from the recent storm. Nothing Troubling, but she keeps her hopes up that _something_ worthy of their interference will occur. Anything to get her away from her desk.

She's falling asleep here, and that needs to stop. Desperately, she reaches for her coffee cup. It's empty, _again_, and she huffs and stands.

Nathan leans back in his chair and folds his arms. "Won't this be number four?"

"Hmm?" she says, pausing at the door.

He nods at her coffee cup, raises his eyebrows.

Audrey shrugs a shoulder. "I guess."

She steps from the room, well aware of his gaze as she leaves. The break room is around the corner and it only takes a minute to pour a new cup. The station's coffee is swill, but it's better than nothing. She glances at the vending machine and sees the Red Bull.

Maybe next round.

Nathan is exactly where she left him. His expression hasn't changed either, and she suddenly feels like she's about to be interrogated.

So she starts on him first.

"Aren't you supposed to be in _your_ office, Chief?"

"It's too quiet."

"Ah," she replies, dropping heavily into her chair again. She takes a sip of the coffee and grimaces, but she's already feeling more awake. Good. Maybe now she can finally finish these reports. She grudgingly picks up her pen and wishes Haven PD had made advances on the technological front. Before she came here, she didn't even realize police departments still _used_ paper files.

"You feeling okay?" Nathan finally asks.

She tenses. "If I weren't, I'd have called in sick." She can't keep the bite from her words, and she immediately feels guilty for snapping at him. He hasn't done anything except express concern. But she's been irritated at everything lately. She rubs her forehead and twists in her chair to face him. "Sorry. I'm fine, Nathan. Honestly."

He stares at her for a few moments, as if gauging her sincerity. Eventually, he says, "All right." He pushes from his old desk. "We got a call while you were getting a refill. Trouble at Haven Joe's Bakery."

"_Trouble_ trouble?"

"Maybe," he says, pulling on his jacket.

"Finally," Audrey replies in relief.

The dreaded paperwork stays on her desk, along with her half-finished coffee.

* * *

"An _actual_ gas leak," she mutters, climbing into Nathan's Bronco. He shuts the door behind her and strolls around the hood. She leans against the headrest and stares at the roof, massaging her temples with a hand. "Didn't see that one coming."

"Sometimes Haven can be normal," Nathan says, sliding into the driver's seat. His door shuts with the muscle car sound of metal-on-metal. Audrey waits, but he doesn't start the car. They're just sitting down the street from the bakery, taking up space and wasting time.

She feels herself getting annoyed again.

"Aren't we going back to the station?" she asks curtly.

Nathan just looks at her. When she meets his gaze, eyes narrowed, he tilts his head in question. "You're sure you don't want to take a day?"

"The day's already halfway done," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Because, _shit_, it is. Normally he'd be taking her out for pancakes by this point. But they still haven't moved.

"Parker—"

"What's your problem, Nathan?" she demands, glaring at him. "I'm _fine_, okay? So stop staring, stop _asking_, and start driving before I get out and walk."

His shoulders sag a little, and he turns back to the road. The Bronco rumbles to life. Guilt burns in Audrey's gut, but she purses her lips and leans against the headrest once more. Asperity: 2. Civility: 0.

_Great track record, Parker_, she thinks. _Considering it's barely noon._

But she still doesn't apologize.

Nathan doesn't say another word. Eventually her eyes drift closed. His truck thrums beneath her, and she starts to relax. They'll get back to the station, she'll buy that Red Bull, and her paperwork will be done before she goes home tonight.

And then the nightmares will start.

Audrey shudders and forces herself awake.

Nathan's trying not to stare, but he's failing rather poorly. Normally it'd be comical, and she'd respond with a teasing smile and a joke about her rapturous beauty. He'd get red in the face and pointedly ignore her for the next few minutes, and she'd be smirking until the next body showed up.

But today it's just exasperating. His concern is nearly palpable, and she's so fucking _sick_ of concern. People keep asking her how she's doing, how she's feeling, can they do anything for her? Going about her daily routine doesn't _work_, hasn't worked for days, and all she wants is to rewind the week, start fresh.

Open that door with a gun instead of a smile.

She looks out the window instead, turning her back to Nathan. The trees blur green as her eyelids drift shut.

Wait.

Trees?

Her eyes snap open and she stares out the window, but they've left the town behind. Nathan's not taking her back to the station, to the work she has to finish and the cases she might get. No, instead he's driving the familiar route to the Grey Gull.

And her loft_._

"Is this some kind of joke?" she demands, whirling on him.

He doesn't take his eyes off the road, and she almost laughs. All day he's been staring, and now that she's truly pissed, he can't even deign to look at her.

"_Nathan_." She slaps his shoulder, but he doesn't flinch. So she hits harder, and when he winces she feels a little better.

"I'm taking you home," he says steadily, rubbing his arm with his free hand.

Audrey crosses her arms, "I can _see_ that, genius. What I want to know is _why_."

She almost considers making him pull over. If he won't take her to the station, fine, she'll hitchhike. Hell, maybe she'll walk. A walk in the brisk air might do her well, wake her up. Anything to keep her from her empty apartment.

She can't fall asleep again.

But she doubts he'd listen anyway, and she _knows_ he'd never let her walk to work alone. So she asks, "Why, Nathan?" and she can't keep the irritation from her voice. He doesn't have the right to control her actions like this. Who the hell does he think he is?

He scowls at the road. "You're exhausted, Parker. Everyone's noticed."

Shoot. She thought she'd been hiding it so well. "Who noticed? Stan? Because I told him it was just—"

"Not just Stan. Everyone. People have been coming into my office for days. You've been nodding off at your desk and stumbling when you walk and snapping at everyone. Shit, Audrey, there's a reason I haven't given you any cases."

So there _had_ been Troubles around. And he'd stuck her at that damn desk doing paperwork! Anger boils through her, hot and coarse, and she draws a breath through her nose to keep it under control.

"You have no right to keep me from a case. If there's a Trouble, I need to _know_, Nathan!"

"No, you don't," he says, impatience seeping into his tone. The Bronco slides down the driveway to the Grey Gull, and he parks the car and turns to her. "Right now you'd just get yourself killed, and you've scared me enough this week. You're done, Parker."

She throws open the door and stalks around the hood. When he steps out as well, she shoves his chest. He stumbles backwards a step. Her voice is a venomous whisper. "Well, I'm _sorry_ to put you through so much trouble. Next time I'm abducted, don't feel like you have to waste your time. I'll get myself out anyway."

"Trouble in paradise?"

Duke strolls from the Gull, his hands in his jacket pockets, eyebrows raised and lips quirked in amusement.

Neither cop acknowledges him.

"Don't go there, Audrey," Nathan says. His voice is low and dangerous, a clear warning.

And one she blatantly ignores. "I was down there for _hours_, Nathan. Locked in a basement with a madman. You have no idea—"

"Hey, hey," Duke says, stepping between them. Nathan glares furiously at him, but he ignores the chief and turns to Audrey instead. "I think we should calm down, all right? How about we go inside and grab a drink."

"I'm not drinking, Duke," Audrey says sharply.

"Waffles, then? The secret's in the—"

"Forget it," she interrupts, glaring at them both in turn. "Just forget it. If you don't want me at work, fine."

She spins on her heel and stalks towards the stairs.

Nathan leaps around Duke and grabs her arm. "Audrey, wait. That's not what I want at all. I'm just worried—"

"Yeah? Get in line," she says.

"Stop," he replies harshly, angrily. "Stop pretending like nothing's wrong. You're not fine. You're not sleeping, and you need help."

Audrey pulls away from him, steps back, adds distance. Tears well in her eyes, but she scowls and looks at both Nathan and Duke in turn. "You want to know why I'm not sleeping? Because my two best friends left me."

Silence falls. Nathan steps back like he was physically hurt. Duke, on the other hand, moves forward, expression pained. Audrey doesn't budge. She just holds their gazes as tears slide down her cheeks.

"When I needed you most, you weren't _there_."

This time, when she starts for the stairs, no one stops her.

* * *

Audrey won't open the door, and eventually, Duke gets tired of banging on the wood. Nathan never says a word, and she's not sure he's waiting outside at all. She sits on the couch and watches Duke's silhouette pace the balcony.

Eventually, he leaves, and she's alone again.

Caffeine isn't having any effect now. She drinks two cups of cold, bitter coffee before she realizes that she's still nodding off on the couch. Exhausted and irate, she moves to her desk. The wooden chair is hard, and she tries to focus on the book in her hands.

It doesn't work. The letters blur together just like her reports had.

Her fingers are shaking now, and she feels slightly nauseous. Guilt continues to churn in her stomach. She can't remember her exact words from earlier, but she has a sinking feeling Nathan and Duke won't forget them.

Audrey buries her head in her arms and draws a shaking breath. Frustration rolls off her in waves, manifests in fat tears that drip onto the desk. She's ruined two friendships in the span of a minute, and this was hard enough _with_ them. Without their support, she's overwhelmed.

And there on the desk, she falls asleep.

At first, she doesn't dream. At first there's just darkness, black and content and safe.

It doesn't last long.

A shadowy figure kicks down the door. She's prepped with a gun and a barricade of chairs and pillows, but he's behind her before she can blink. The gun clatters to the floor. A hand, scalding hot, clamps over her mouth. Pain courses through her in sharp waves, shocking her, leaving her limp, defenseless.

But she bites his hand, and he lets go. "Nathan," she chokes, but the words are swallowed by black. "Duke!"

"They'll never hear you," the man breathes. His malicious chuckle makes her cringe, and suddenly she's tied to that wooden beam, her blood smattering the floor, her body swollen and bruised. The flashlight shines in her eyes. The shadowy figure bends so close she can feel his breath on her lips.

"Tell me about the Colorado Kid," he whispers.

She screams.

Something clatters to the ground, and Audrey jolts upright. She's shaking, gasping for breath, eyes wide. There's no one in the apartment, but the place is dark now and it makes her skin crawl. She pushes from the desk and staggers to the door.

She pulls the curtains aside and checks the window, but there's no one on her balcony. No shadowed man with a taser.

No Duke or Nathan either.

It takes her three tries to open the door, but she finally manages to stumble outside. She barely has the presence of mind to close it behind her before she's leaning over the balcony's railing, sobbing. Every time. Every fucking time she tries to sleep.

No one's ever there to help her. She's overpowered. Her greatest fear come to life.

People are laughing and chatting downstairs. The bar's in full swing and she briefly considers going back into her apartment. But she needs people right now, needs to remember that she's not in that basement anymore. So she smoothes her hair and wipes her eyes and walks downstairs.

It's crowded enough that no one gives her a second glance when she steps inside. She walks right to the bar and flags down Nora. God, she needs a drink.

The bartender steps closer, smiling brightly, "Hey, Audrey. How're you?"

"Fine," Audrey says, leaning heavily against the bar. "Give me whatever's closest and strongest."

Nora pauses for a moment, studies her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be better with a drink," Audrey says, nearly spitting out the words.

"Uh… coming right up," Nora replies, ducking behind the bar. She comes back with a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler, and she pours Audrey a shot. Audrey downs it. It's not enough. She can still remember the man's breath on her face, the blinding light in her eyes.

"Another," she says.

Nora hesitates.

"Actually, just leave the bottle," Audrey says, narrowing her eyes at Nora. The woman bites her lower lip, but eventually nods and walks away. Audrey takes the bottle, pours a double, and swallows it in two gulps.

She's starting to get dizzy, but at least her hands have stopped shaking now. _Must be working_, she thinks, and pours herself another shot. Suddenly, she can see how an alcoholic copes. It's not the best way to deal with post-traumatic stress, but at least they can sleep at night.

She has the tumbler to her lips when someone slides into the seat next to her. She sips the drink instead and mutters, "Go away."

"You know, as much as I'd _love_ to see Drunk Audrey, I don't think this is the best way to go about it," Duke says.

The alcohol's kicking in now, rushing over her like a wave. She downs the rest of her drink and reaches for the bottle again. Duke pulls it away. He takes the tumbler as an afterthought. Audrey scowls.

"Leave me alone," she says halfheartedly, but she doesn't really want that. She doesn't want Duke to leave her with her thoughts, because lately her thoughts are terrifying.

Luckily, he settles into the chair and remarks lightly, "Think I'll stick around, actually. My bar, you know? I have to keep an eye on the heavy drinkers."

Heavy drinker. _That's_ what she's become. Disgust wells inside her, because she's better than that and she knows it. She shoves away from the bar and stumbles onto the back deck. It's chilly outside, but quiet, and the moon shines off the ocean like a beacon.

Or a flashlight.

She quickly looks away.

Duke meanders to the railing, leaning his back against it. He glances down at her but doesn't say a word. After the way she's been acting, she thinks that's probably smart.

But the silence echoes, so she talks instead. "I can't sleep, Duke."

"I know," he replies.

Audrey's balance is off, so she drapes her arms over the railing and stares blankly at the dark sky. The waves are gentle and the stars are clear. All in all, it's a beautiful night.

Except nights haven't really been beautiful lately.

"I thought… maybe… if I drank—"

"Somehow, I don't think that will solve your problems," Duke says, shaking his head. "Trust me, all you get is a hangover. And sometimes, a woman you don't know hogging your covers in the morning."

Audrey laughs slightly, but it's humorless.

Duke turns around and rests his forearms on the railing. The music and conversation is muted, and all Audrey can hear are the waves rolling onto the sand. Duke draws a deep breath and lets it go. Then he says, softly, "Audrey, when he realized you were gone, Nathan panicked. Honestly, I've never seen the guy so terrified."

Guilt again. She's getting so tired of feeling guilty.

_Maybe you should stop treating your friends like shit, then_.

"I know," she replies, her voice equally soft. She's not sure if she's replying to Duke or her own thoughts.

Duke looks towards the moon and laces his fingers together. "We were there hours before you broke free. _Hours_. We could have saved you, Audrey, but we didn't think to canvass that damn inn."

Audrey doesn't reply. What can she say?

He glances at her. "So, I think you have every right to be mad. But you have to know that we would have _never_ stopped looking for you. Even if it took months. Years." His expression is earnest, his smile genuine, which is rare for Duke. His words are nothing but the truth.

Tears burn her eyes again. She's so goddamn _lucky_ to have friends like this, especially when all she does is yell at them, curse their concern, disregard their care. She swallows past the lump in her throat and croaks, "I'm sorry, Duke. I'm so sorry."

He pulls her into a hug. His head rests on hers and he says, "I know." It's quiet for a moment, and Audrey tries to keep herself from ruining the moment. Then a car door slams, and Duke pulls away. "Ah, that would be Nathan."

Audrey thinks she misheard. She raises her eyebrows and blinks away tears. "What?"

"Nathan. You know, tall guy, chief of police, your partner, my self-proclaimed pain in the ass… Should I go on?"

"You called him?"

Duke shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You were binge-drinking. Nora got me, and I got him. Just think of it as the Chain of Audrey."

"And it starts with Nora?" she says in disbelief.

"It does when you take her bottle of whiskey," he replies lightly.

"Audrey!" Nathan says, barreling around the corner of the deck. He stops short when he sees her, and she can see the tension in his body drain away. "Jesus, Duke, you made me think she was half unconscious already."

"Well, she probably is, but it's not because of the alcohol," Duke says, clapping Nathan on the shoulder. "How about you take her upstairs and get her some water? Probably food too. I don't think she's eaten today."

Audrey pushes away from the railing and almost loses her balance. The world really is spinning now. Nathan grabs her shoulders and holds her steady, and Duke winks at her. "Get some sleep, Parker. Next time you try to drown your sorrows, I'm actually going to charge you."

"No you won't," Audrey replies faintly, waving him away. He grins and heads back inside.

Nathan steers her towards the staircase. "Come on, Audrey. You have any food?"

"Maybe a microwave meal."

He sighs. "Better than nothing." He doesn't let go of her as she walks upstairs, which is probably a good thing since she nearly trips twice. He opens the door to her apartment, but she pauses at the threshold.

"Can't we just stay outside?" she asks.

He turns to her, raising an eyebrow. "You're shivering. I don't think it's a good idea."

She looks at the empty expanse of her apartment. Imagines a barricade of chairs and pillows. A hand over her mouth. Uninvited breath on her lips. If Nathan thinks she's shivering because of the temperature, he's dead wrong.

She steps back, wobbles a bit, grabs one of the balcony chairs for support. "I can't."

Nathan considers her. Then he nods, closes the door behind him, and takes off his jacket. "All right. Come on. We can go to my place," he says, sheathing her shoulders in warm fleece. The jacket has HPD stamped on the breast, and it smells like him. She crosses her arms and buries her chin into the collar, inhaling deeply.

With his arm around her shoulders and his jacket keeping her warm and her apartment behind them, she begins to relax. Nathan helps her into the Bronco and carefully closes the door. Then he rounds the hood and slides into the driver's seat.

Before they leave, he waves to the Grey Gull. Audrey glances past him to see Duke on the front patio. He lifts a beer bottle and turns back inside.

Nathan starts the car and pulls onto the road. Audrey bites back a yawn. The whiskey is making her sluggish, which is bad. She really should have just sent Nathan away and gone home. Now she'll be keeping him up all night too.

He doesn't really look happy to be here, either. His eyes are narrowed, and he won't look at her. His lips are pressed into a thin line. His jaw is clenched. Audrey sinks further into the passenger seat and says, "You didn't have to come."

"Duke said you'd stolen a bottle of whiskey. Sue me for being worried."

She cringes. Even after everything she'd said, he's dropped his night to come and help. Strangely enough, the alcohol, while fogging her vision and ruining her balance, has cleared her mind. She looks at him and opens her mouth, but everything she can think to say doesn't seem nearly adequate.

Then Nathan says it anyway.

"I'm sorry."

She looks at him in shock.

He keeps his eyes on the road. He's driving slower than normal, easing around the dark bends at a gentle pace. "I should have found you sooner. I should have come to dinner earlier so he couldn't have taken you." He slams a hand on the steering wheel, grips it in frustration. "I should have done _something_."

"No," Audrey says, wrenching the word from her throat. He must have heard the anguish in her voice because he looks at her, just for a moment, but it's not long enough to see the regret in her eyes.

"You were right," he replies. "I wasn't there, but I should have been. I'm so sorry."

Audrey shakes her head and hopes this is just another nightmare. She doesn't want him to feel responsible, but he obviously does. She was angry and exhausted and frustrated and she took it out on him, and _he believed her_.

And that's her fault.

"Nathan—"

He eases the Bronco to a stop. When she looks outside, there's a small two-story house. He parks the car, turns it off, steps outside. She watches the way his shoulders hunch as he walks, so different from the tall, confident man he usually is.

She's out of the car before she realizes, slamming into him with enough force to send him staggering backwards. Her arms encircle his neck and her lips press against his with all the desperation and anxiety she felt tied in that basement.

"I'm sorry," she chokes, kissing him again. "It's not your fault. Please, Nathan. I'm sorry."

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer. She grips his neck and buries her face in his shoulder and chants the apology until it becomes meaningless.

And through it all, he doesn't let go, anchoring her to the moment, reminding her of everything she gained the second she cut those ropes. She's not back in that basement. She never will be again. The relief is so crippling that she nearly drops to her knees.

Nathan keeps his strong hold on her, but eventually she realizes that they can't stay outside forever. She has his jacket and she can feel his skin getting cold even if he can't. So she pulls away, and after a reluctant moment, he steps back.

"You're cold," she says, wiping her eyes.

"I'm okay," he replies. He's watching her carefully, like he's not sure if she'll get angry again, or break down crying. She's not really sure either, so she keeps her mouth shut and turns to the house.

"Is this your place?"

"Yep."

He always struck her as an apartment kind of guy, so seeing him with a house and a garage and a yard is disconcerting. And yet somehow, strangely fitting. She follows him inside, looks at the bare walls and sparse furniture, and says, "You need a woman's touch."

"The only woman's touch I need is yours," he replies.

She stares after him. Guilt churns in her gut again, but more than that. Longing. She'd been _so_ close to having him, moving forward in their relationship. So close, until she opened that door and it wasn't Nathan on the other side.

He walks into the kitchen and pulls open the fridge, oblivious to the impact of his words. "What do you want to eat?"

It takes her a moment to reply. "Uh… pancakes?" She steps into the kitchen, takes a seat at the island. The wooden chair is comfortable and sturdy, and she allows herself to sag against the granite countertop.

He looks over the fridge door at her, one eyebrow raised. "It's eleven at night."

"Never stopped you."

He smirks and pulls out the ingredients. She watches him blearily, the warmth of his jacket and his house and his presence lulling her to sleep. She pinches her arm. It doesn't really work. Instead, she says, "You have coffee?"

Nathan pours some batter into a pan. "Sure. You can't have any."

"But—"

"Parker, don't. You need food, and then you need about sixteen hours of sleep. So that's what you're going to get. And before you say you're fine, I'll remind you of the day's events, which clearly point in another direction."

He puts a plate in front of her. Then he pours a glass of milk and puts it in the microwave. Audrey rolls her eyes, "Warm milk? Really? How old am I?"

"It'll help," he replies steadily, putting a pancake on her plate. He hands her a container of syrup and the glass of milk and starts on another pancake.

Audrey takes a bite to appease him. She's not really hungry, doesn't know if she ever will be again, but he keeps looking at her sternly, so she finishes her milk and eats her pancakes and the silence gets heavier and heavier.

She doesn't even realize she'd nodded off until she wakes in Nathan's arms. He's carrying her, carefully maneuvering onto the narrow staircase. She struggles in his grasp, grabbing the banister before he can get too far. "Nathan, no."

He glances down at her, obviously exasperated. "Parker. You can't stay awake forever."

"I can try," she replies. "Put me down."

He hesitates, but steps away from the stairs and helps her stand. She's dizzy, but he doesn't let go of her shoulders. She turns to the living room instead. His couch doesn't look comfortable. It's probably a better bet than some guest room bed.

He humors her, guiding her to the couch. She drops into it, stares blankly at the TV. Nathan sits beside her, cautious, staring like she'll pass out at any moment. Frankly, she's tired enough that it wouldn't surprise her, but she points vaguely at the TV. "Why don't you put something on?"

"Let me guess. Something loud and visually stimulating?"

"Sounds good to me," she replies, biting back a yawn. "Loud as it'll go."

Nathan rolls his eyes and settles into the couch, but he dutifully turns on the TV. He picks some political talk show, as if national politics have any influence over the goings-on in Haven. Audrey sags against the couch, eventually moves closer to Nathan, finally curls against him. He shifts sideways to accommodate, wraps an arm around her shoulders, but doesn't look at her and doesn't say a word.

It occurs to her (too late) that he purposefully picked something monotone and boring, but by then she's drifting to sleep.

She knows it's a dream. That's the hardest part. She opens her eyes and she's back in that basement and she _knows_ it's wrong, but the terror in her gut is real and somehow "it's a dream" loses meaning.

He's standing in front of her, that dark, shapeless figure. His flashlight is gone, but the basement is dark and she still can't make out any facial features. She hears Roslyn whimpering in the next room. She has to get them both out.

"Welcome back," he drawls. His voice is cold, hard, and she shudders. "Where is the Colorado Kid?"

"I don't—I don't know," she chokes.

A knife is suddenly in his hands, glinting in the nonexistent light. He presses it against her neck, draws it across her skin. Warm blood trickles over her shoulder. "You do know. If you don't stop lying, I will kill you."

She swallows a sob.

Someone is murmuring in her ear, but it's not the man. She can't make out the words, but they sound comforting. She relaxes a little, because she's not alone.

Then the dream shifts, and suddenly she's in the street. Nathan is there, held in a vice grip by the masked man. A beige sedan squeals around the corner, going too fast to stop. She tries to run to Nathan, but her feet won't move.

"No!" she cries, eyes wide. She's lived this nightmare before, and she can't watch it again. "Get out of the way!"

He tries to run, but the figure won't let him go. The car plows into them both. Nathan kicks over the windshield, crumples to the pavement, doesn't move. Her abductor is standing like nothing's happened, shining his flashlight on Nathan's bloodied corpse.

Tears stream down Audrey's cheeks, but she still can't move. Nathan dies, again, and there's nothing she can do.

Then she's in the basement again, and the flashlight is blinding her, and he's chuckling darkly. "I'll kill him again if you don't tell me."

Someone is still muttering in her ear. She can't focus on the man, or she'll break, so she tries to listen to what the person is saying. It sounds disturbingly like Nathan, but she's just seen him die—

"—just a dream, Audrey. You're stronger than this."

She thinks she misheard. But then she remembers it _is_ just a dream. She's already escaped this goddamn basement. She'll find and kill this figure, and he'll wind up being nothing more than a _man_. She glares at him, kicks her legs, knocks him to the ground.

_Fire_. The basement is ablaze, burning the body. She's free, holding him by the neck with his own knife while he screams. "This is for Roslyn, you bastard," she hisses.

The scene vanishes.

Everything is quiet.

* * *

She wakes in a bed. The room is small and simplistic, mimicking the rest of Nathan's house. The sun shines through wooden blinds, creasing lines across the floor. There's a clock on the nightstand, and she stares at the time. It's almost four in the afternoon. That can't be right.

She sits up, glances around the room. There's a reading chair, a bookshelf, and a standing lamp. In the corner, a wooden dresser. That's it. It's absurdly bare, and she decides to gift Nathan some photos or posters or _something_ to brighten the room.

Her shoes are by the door, but she's still wearing her clothes from yesterday. She leaves the shoes and pauses by the bathroom to check her appearance. Aside from the bed-hair, she looks… rejuvenated. She combs her hair through a few times with her fingers, decides it's good enough, and heads downstairs.

Nathan is sitting at the kitchen island, perusing through case files. His phone is next to him, but he's wearing a casual shirt and jeans. If work calls, he probably won't report.

For a moment, she just watches him. He doesn't seem to know she's there. He hums under his breath, sips from a blue mug, taps his bare feet against the wooden floor. He's utterly domestic right now, and she wonders if he knows how adorable that is.

_Probably not_, she thinks wryly.

"Am I allowed to have some coffee now?" she asks, smirking.

He glances over his shoulder and grins back. "I wouldn't dare say no. I'm out of cream and sugar, though."

She rolls her eyes, and his grin widens. She picks a green mug and pours a cup, but it's cold when she sips it. She makes a face and pops it into the microwave.

Nathan glances at his own coffee, pushes the mug towards her, and says, "Temperature test?"

She tastes it, purses her lips, and heats his coffee up too.

He pushes the case files away and straightens, regarding her with interest. She leans against the opposite side of the island, biting back a yawn. "You called in sick today?" she asks. "Or just decided you can't solve anything without me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," he replies, shaking his head. But his lips quirk a bit, and she's somewhat touched. His expression sobers, and he meets her gaze sternly. "You feeling better?"

"I feel like I slept too long."

"Not enough, in my opinion."

She pulls his mug out of the microwave, takes a sip, and winces. "Too hot. Give it a minute." She slides it across the island and takes her own in hand. It's warm, and even though it's hot too, it does wonders in dispelling grogginess.

Nathan doesn't take his eyes off her. "You had a nightmare."

"No shit," she replies dryly.

He narrows his eyes, "It's not something to joke about, Audrey. You need help. Avoiding sleep isn't the healthy answer here."

"I'm fine," she says, waving off his concern. When he opens his mouth to protest, she cuts him off. "Really, Nathan. That's the longest I've been able to sleep since I was taken. I… I beat him. In the dream. I think it's over now."

He doesn't look convinced.

She doesn't need him to be, though. She wasn't helpless, and she won't be taken again. When she meets her abductor, she's going to kick his ass. She's never been more sure of anything in her life. And that confidence translated into her dream last night, with a little nudge from Nathan.

The shadowed figure doesn't scare her anymore.

She drinks her coffee and smiles brightly at Nathan. "It's over," she repeats, and the words feel good.

He heaves a sigh and says, "I'd feel better if you spent tonight here too, just so I can be sure. You've lied to me before about this."

She smirks. "That's a convenient excuse."

"It's not an excuse," he says, but his ears go red and he ducks back into the case files. She laughs and steps around the counter and drapes over his back. He goes rigid at her touch, and she squeezes his shoulder and whispers into his ear.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. But Nathan? Thank you."

Then she steps into the living room and turns on the TV, and it's another half hour before Nathan decides to meander in and watch with her.

The rest of the day is comfortable, filled with friendly banter and pancakes.

And when night comes, she doesn't dream.

* * *

A/N: So, this is complete. That's pretty much all I'm going to write on Audrey's kidnapping. But I absolutely love the reviewers here, since you're all so gosh darn supportive and encouraging. Posting Haven fics is like a freaking drug to me, when you all have such nice feedback. Expect more in this fandom in the near future. :)


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